


Pierogies

by NYWCgirl



Category: White Collar
Genre: Drunken silliness, Fun, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-10
Updated: 2015-04-10
Packaged: 2018-03-22 04:41:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3715393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NYWCgirl/pseuds/NYWCgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The WC team closes a case and celebrates, when they get hungry, the men decide to cook something themselves..</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pierogies

It had been a rough case and Peter was happy his whole team had made it out unhurt, even if it was just barely. It was Friday evening and they all agreed that some drinks were in order. They would meet up at the Whiskey Tavern on Baxter Street.

When they entered Neal immediately started checking out their selection. Peter could see that Neal was excited about something he saw and he felt generous, since they caught the bad guys.

“Why don´t you order, Neal.”

Neal looked perplexed at Peter. “Are you sure?” he asked hesitantly.

“Yeah, you and Jones did a fine job at the microbrewery event as Whiskey connoisseurs, so I guess I would like to be surprised.”

“OK, we will have a Celtic Cask Aon 1996.” Neal said to the bar tender.

When Neal walked back to their table, everyone was watching him.

“What did you order, Neal? Enlighten us.” Jones asked.

“A single malt Irish Whiskey that was distilled at Cooley distillery and finished in 2010 using an eighty year old Palo Cortado Sherry Cask. It was bottled in 2012.

Peter rolled his eyes at the explanation and just looked where the bar tender was. He was thirsty.

The bar tender brought the bottle and glasses and left again. Neal uncorked that bottle, savoring the aromas. He then poured them all two fingers worth.

They all raised their glasses.

“Cheers” and one “Skol” and down went the whiskey.

“Do you notice the flavors of warm spices, toffee, crème caramel, chocolate brownies and walnuts?” Neal mused.

“No, but I wouldn´t mind another one.” Diana extended her glass to Neal.

Soon they had drained the bottle, so Peter wanted an American Whiskey.

“You have Elijah Craig twelve years?” Peter asked the bar tender.

“As a matter of fact, we do, sir.”

Before he knew it, the second bottle was emptied and Diana announced she was going home to check up on Theo. The probies and a couple of other agents also told Peter they were heading home and Jones, Peter and Neal decided that it would be better if they ate something. Jones suggested Chinese takeout, but Neal said he would cook them something.

As El was away for the weekend to visit her family, Peter suggested they would go to his place. The three of them took a cab to Peter´s home. When they arrived, Neal immediately went into the kitchen to make them diner.

“What do you want me to make?” Neal slurred a bit.

“Pierogis.” Peter bellowed from the living room, where he was fumbling with the remote.

“You sure, Peter?” This will take some time to make, you know.”

“El never makes me Pierogis, so, yes, I´m sure. You want a beer?”

“No, but I guess El stocked some wine for the luncheon next Wednesday, I will have some of the Lafitte.”

“Beer is fine.” Jones said.

Neal asked Jones to peel the potatoes while he was shopping the onions, downing the excellent wine. He had a little trouble finding all the ingredients and Peter wasn´t a real help. Why did El insist in buying packages with such small lettering? Neal was thinking.

“Peter, where do you keep the mixing bowls?”

“I don´t have mixing balls, what sort of question is that?” Peter called back.

“Not balls, bowls!” Neal started giggling. “Why would I ask about your balls?”

Jones snorted, but started laughing because Neal was giggling like a schoolgirl. When Neal noticed, he tried a serious look and just mixed all the ingredients on the counter in a dough like ball.

“I need a bowl for this ball, Peter.” Neal started giggling again.

While they waited for the dough to rest, Neal finished the bottle of wine and Peter and Jones drank some more beers.

“Jones, can you get the dough?”

“The bowl or the ball?” Jones slapped Neal on the back. “Just kidding.”

It took twice the time it would normally take to divide the dough in twenty even portions, Neal restarting three times, before Peter just cut up the pieces.

Neal then gave a portion of dough to each of the men. He took his portion and showed them how to flatten them into circles, filling them with the potato/onion filling he had made earlier.

When he finished the first one, it even looked OK, so Peter and Jones were confident that they could do it; easy peasy…

Peter´s Pierogi looked more like Bob from Monsters vs Aliens and Jones´ didn´t look better, but at least it was closed and the filling was on the inside.

The continued until all the dough and filling was transformed into Pierogies. While they were making them, they drank some more and they were now officially wasted.

Neal put water on the stove to cook them but burned his fingers when he forgot to blow out the match, to the amusement of Jones and Peter who were sitting at the kitchen island.

When they were boiled, Neal started frying them in butter until they were brown. In the mean time Peter had been looking through the cabinets for apple sauce.

Even drunk, Neal had managed to make half decent Pierogies. Peter´s had turned into a fried potato/onion/dough blob, but nevertheless, he happily digged into them, downing them with the last couple of beers.

“They look like they have been eaten before.” Peter stated dryly, making Jones and Neal go into a laughing fit.

“Yeah, wait until you see them a second time.” Jones just laughed at Peter´s paling face.

“You aren´t going to be sick, are you?”

“ Of course not.” Peter almost sounded offended. “Neal, you are such a good cook, make us some chocolate chip cookies for dessert, then we can gave them with some coffee. It will sober us up.”

Again, Neal started squinting in the cupboards for the ingredients. The flour was still on the counter, as was the butter. So sugar, eggs, …

“Where does El keep the eggs?” Neal called out to Peter.

“In the wire chicken on the counter.”

“Then you are out, so I can´t make cookies.”

“The neighbors have chickens, let´s get some.” Peter suggested.

“OK, you get them, I will start preparing everything.” Neal said, not thinking about the fact that it was late at night.

Peter left through the back door and when they heard a big crash, Jones and Neal quickly ran outside, but they didn´t see Peter until they heard a groan from the other side of the fence.

Both Neal and Jones pulled up a garden chair and looked over the fence and there was Peter, he had tried to climb over the fence and fell, leaving a nasty cut above his eyebrow. Neal started giggling again, and Jones also started laughing, none of them thinking about helping Peter.

When the outside light was flipped on and an angry looking neighbor appeared, both men ducked below the fence again, smirking and trying to hold their laughter.

“Who is there?”

“It´s Peter, I seemed to have fallen over the fence.” Peter slurred with a goofy smile.

The neighbor didn´t sound angry anymore, more concerned now. “Are you OK?”

“Not really.” Peter admitted.

The neighbor helped Peter up and escorted him inside, where his wife cleaned the wound and put a bandaid over it. When the neighbor asked what Peter was doing on the fence, Peter reluctantly admitted that they had wanted to make chocolate chip cookies and they were out of eggs.

His neighbor kindly explained that chickens don´t lay eggs in the dark. But Peter got a plate with home baked cookies to take home to his drunk friends if he promised next time to use their front door if he needed anything.

When he got back inside, he found Jones and Neal snoring on the couch. So he put the cookies down and took the remaining lazy chair to have a rest.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, the men woke with a hangover the size of an elephant, but Neal suggested making Eggs Benedict. Peter gently reminding him they didn´t have eggs.

When they went into the kitchen to make coffee instead, it looked like a bomb exploded in it. The counter and kitchen island were smeared with dough, dirty bowls and pans everywhere.

Peter only had one look and groaned “Alka Seltzer and let´s have breakfast somewhere else.”

 


End file.
